


two hundred million guns are loaded

by honeyichor (bloodsparks)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Consort Dean Winchester, Episode: s03e04 Sin City, Gen, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Revenge, Scary Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 06:59:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13002351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsparks/pseuds/honeyichor
Summary: Sam initiates sweet, sticky revenge on those who crossed him and Dean in the past.





	two hundred million guns are loaded

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'run through the jungle' by credence clearwater revival

When Sam rises to the throne, He has more than just a craving for revenge. 

Even without a list, He remembers the name and calling number of every unfortunate soul who caused harm to His family. He doesn't let them die easy; makes them beg and work for it. The last thing they see are His bloodstained lips and the darkness that trembles around Him. Jake falls the way He once did, but with a dramatic flourish. Instead of one knife in the spine, he falls with stakes into every single one of his vertebrae. 

"Who's next, Dean?" Sam croons, fingers threaded through His brother's hair. "Who do you remember that had the nerve to threaten us?"

His consort leans further into His touch, thinking before leaning up and planting a kiss to the side of Sam's mouth. "Ohio. The 'rust-belt' city. The demon possessing the priest." 

Sam snarls, recalling being thrown onto a car while Bobby was flung aside just as harshly. He remembers the bruises on Dean's neck, too, caused by the same troublemaker parading in a holy man's costume. Sam closes his eyes, and the proof of His power flickers through Hells courtyards like earthquakes of the highest order. In no time, the demon stands before the throne of marble and bone. It looks confused, and rightfully so, as it was shot with the Colt and sent to rest. 

"Why- How am I here?" It questions, disoriented and confused. 

Sam loves when He gets to play with His food. He motions to Dean, who rises up off Sam's lap and begins circling the wary demon. "Do not question your King," he warns, a jagged blade glinting by his side. 

"King?' The demon spits, beginning to put the pieces together - but they form a puzzle with the wrong picture. "I have no King."

The throne room quakes, and the Boy King stands. "You will kneel," He says, voice casual. "Or you will die." 

Standing defiantly, the demon is silent.

Sam smirks. "Fair enough. I was lying. You will die either way, but now I will make sure you die screaming." 

When they are finished with the demon, the stone ground runs slick with blood. Its body lies motionless and scattered, desecrated and destroyed. Dean kneels before Sam, jeans soaking in the gore. "Satisfied, my King?" His tone is light and teasing, but respectful nonetheless. There is no one more proud and protective of the King than he, the consort. 

"Hardly," Sam growls, pulling Dean up to his feet and kissing him deeply. "What about the bartender? The pretty black-haired girl who trapped you with her. She'd be a darling to play with."

But Dean shakes his head. "No, she was loyal to You. Her faith was genuine." Dean remembers her words loud and clear.  _For the record, I was ready to follow Sam._

"Well then," Sam's voice is low. Inviting. "She's due for a reward, isn't she?"


End file.
